


The Jealousy

by impalaloompa



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, First Time, Geralt is an idiot, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, they both are, well maybe a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: “When I saw you dancing with that girl, I felt… something. And then again when I saw you with her in the barn. Only it was stronger. I just knew that I wanted it to be me. Not her. I wanted you,” he grumbled.“You were jealous?” Jaskier tried not to laugh.“Jealous,” Geralt contemplated this, “All I know is, I need you Jaskier, more than I’ve ever needed anyone. And I want you, to be with you.”Jaskier swallowed hard.“Just shut up and fuck me you dumb fuck,” Jaskier pressed his lips to Geralt’s again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 375





	The Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments are greatly appreciated.

The tavern was alive with laughter and music. The warmth, the smell of ale, the spirit of the people.

They were celebrating. 

Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher, the White Wolf, had rid their land of wraiths, saving their crops, their animals, their livelihoods and their lives. 

He had been welcomed back into the tavern a hero and given drinks on the house. A rendition of Toss A Coin had broken out with the Witcher’s Bard companion leading the song.

The White Wolf had grunted and sat in the corner, nursing is tankard with a stoic expression on his face.

It was the Bard now who was entertaining the villagers, encouraging dancing and drinking. He flitted between the patrons, charming and animated. Strumming out some jaunty tune to do with the harvest moon in the summer.

Some of the villagers had instruments of their own and he had jumped on the chance to conduct and lead them in his performance. 

He finished with a flourish, bowing deeply at their applause. He was handed a cup of wine and taking that as his cue for a break, he sauntered over to Geralt.

“Well, this is a lively bunch,” he flopped into the chair opposite the Witcher, taking a deep drink from his cup and balancing his lute against his chair, “I have to say, even I’m struggling to keep up with them.”

“Hm,” Geralt grunted.

“A man of many words as always,” Jaskier sighed, “you know, I may even dedicate a whole song to this village, its lovely people. Can you imagine what they’ll do? Probably build me a statue or something.”

Geralt drank from his tankard.

“And when their children and their children’s children point it out and ask who it is of, they’ll be told Jaskier, the famous Bard who travelled with the White Wolf. Wouldn’t that be something, eh? A legacy all of my own.”

“Jaskier, shut up,” Geralt grumbled.

“Oh come on, a man can dream cant he? There’ll definitely be a statue of you one of these days,” he drained his cup as the villagers started playing another melody and Jaskier brightened.

“I love this one,” he looked at Geralt, something strange in his eyes, “Dance with me Geralt?” 

The Witcher quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Dance with me?” the Bard repeated, holding out his hand.

“No,” Geralt gruffed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes at him and melted back into the throng of villagers.

Geralt shook his head. As the tune went on, he spotted Jaskier dancing with a woman, just shorter that the Bard was, with her blond hair in a braid over her shoulder. Jaskier was as adept at dancing as he was at playing a lute.

He led the woman confidently, moving with a graceful ease Geralt had never seen before. He found himself unable to look away.

The song finished and Jaskier bowed to his partner, a beautiful smile lighting up his face. The woman took his hand and they disappeared from Geralt’s view.

Something strange tightened in Geralt’s chest and he stood up to try and follow them. He was just making sure Jaskier was alright, he told himself. The Bard always ended up in some sort of trouble. He was looking out for his friend. 

He used his enhanced senses to pick Jaskier out from the crowd of people and followed his scent out of the tavern.

The night air was cool on his skin and the moon peaked out from behind a cloud.

Geralt tracked Jaskier round the back of the tavern and into the stables. As he approached, he could hear the woman giggling and whispering to the Bard and Jaskier’s laugh in response.

Then he saw them.

Jaskier had his back to the stable wall, the woman was pressed against him. Her lips were planted on his neck and his eyes were closed. His breathing was sharp as the woman wove her hands into his hair and pulled. Jaskier’s hands were cupping the small of her back. The little noises escaping his throat spurred her on.

As Geralt watched, something stirred deep within him. Something he didn’t understand. What he did understand was that he wanted Jaskier to be making those noises for him and only him. 

When the woman placed her hands on Jaskier’s face and pulled him into a kiss, Geralt snapped.

He marched towards them. 

“Geralt?” the surprise lacing the Bard’s tone almost covered his embarrassment.

The Witcher grabbed Jaskier by the wrist and hauled him away. The woman was left with her mouth open, hurt and confused.

Jaskier was rather confused himself as Geralt dragged him back towards the tavern.

“Okay, okay steady on. What’s gotten into you? Geralt?” he tried, managing to twist free of the Witcher and standing his ground.

Geralt stopped, fixing him with his amber eyes.

“Talk to me Geralt,” the Bard implored.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so instead he closed the gap between them and kissed him. Jaskier tasted like wine and berries. It was hard and quick, but it left Jaskier stunned.

“Right, good,” he stood in shock.

“I want you Jaskier,” Geralt growled, his deep voice shaking the Bard back to reality.

“It’s about fucking time you emotionally constipated giant,” Jaskier grinned at him.

Geralt frowned at him, and this time it was Jaskier taking his wrist and leading him back into the tavern, weaving through the villagers and up the steps to the rooms.

As soon as the door was closed, Jaskier launched himself as Geralt, crashing their mouths together, desperate and wanting.

Geralt returned the kiss messily. They stumbled back until Jaskier hit the wall with a grunt. His hands were either side of Geralt’s face. Geralt’s hands were all over the place, trying to touch every inch of him at once.

Jaskier laughed breathlessly as Geralt hoisted him up so he could wrap his legs round his waist. Their kissing slowed, as lust and passion took over. 

Jaskier leaned back panting as Geralt rolled his hips into his groin.

“Ah fuck,” he hissed as Geralt’s erection pressed against his own, “Geralt, Geralt, slow down a sec.”

The Witcher looked at him, slight confusion tinting his amber eyes.

“What is this for you?” Jaskier hummed, still pinned against the wall, “Because I don’t want this to be another meaningless encounter. I want more from you. Understand? And if you can’t give that to me then I don’t want this.”

He couldn’t believe he was saying this. Years of pining and longing after the man he couldn’t have, only to suddenly get everything he wanted. He didn’t want to have his heart broken. He couldn’t bare it if this was just blowing off steam for the Witcher. He wasn’t worth much, but he knew he deserved more than that.

Geralt processed what the Bard had said. It took him a moment, his eyes searching Jaskier’s blue gaze, finding nothing but sincerity in their depths.

Even he didn’t fully understand what he was feeling but he told Jaskier what he could.

“When I saw you dancing with that girl, I felt… something. And then again when I saw you with her in the barn. Only it was stronger. I just knew that I wanted it to be me. Not her. I wanted you,” he grumbled.

“You were jealous?” Jaskier tried not to laugh.

“Jealous,” Geralt contemplated this, “All I know is, I need you Jaskier, more than I’ve ever needed anyone. And I want you, to be with you.”

Jaskier swallowed hard.

“Just shut up and fuck me you dumb fuck,” Jaskier pressed his lips to Geralt’s again.

His hands found hold clasping the back of Geralt’s neck as the Witcher traced his mouth down Jaskier’s chin and onto his jaw.

Jaskier whimpered when Geralt introduced his teeth to the exposed skin and the noise was too much for Geralt.

He rolled his hips again, grinding their crotches together. Again, Jaskier made a noise that twisted deep in Geralt’s gut. He didn’t know that a sound could make him feel so dirty and so wonderful at the same time.

He plucked at the lacing of Jaskier’s pants and undid them quickly so he could slip his hand down under the waistline.

“Ah,” Jaskier bit his bottom lip as Geralt took him in his calloused fingers.

As much as the thought of being fucked against a wall was a huge turn on for him, Jaskier made Geralt go to the bed, more for his own comfort than anything else.

The Witcher ungracefully plonked him on the bed, the Bard bounced a little on impact, and tore his shirt up over his head.

Jaskier shrugged his off too and let it fall off the bed as Geralt climbed on top of him.

The Witcher pulled Jaskier’s pants down, exposing him to the world and took off the Bard’s boots as well in the same swift motion.

Jaskier was breathing hard and deep, his stomach fluttering with anticipation as he watched Geralt remove his own pants then repositioned himself above him.

Geralt tucked a hand behind Jaskier’s head and pulled him into another kiss. Jaskier let his hands roam the Witcher’s back, his fingertips gliding over the many scars lacing the skin.

The Witcher’s other hand had returned to Jaskier’s cock, stroking in time with his own rolling hips.

“Geralt,” the Bard choked between breaths.

Geralt leaned off him to reach for his pack by the bed. Jaskier watched him with hooded eyes and he rummaged in the top pocket and withdrew a small vial that contained an oil he often used to sooth sore muscles.

He popped the cap and dipped his index finger in. He could hear Jaskier’s heart thundering in his chest and he hesitated.

“Jaskier,” his husky voice sounded even deeper than usual, “what if… I hurt you.”

Jaskier could tell he was worrying about his Witcher strength, rather than the actual process.

He pushed himself up a little so he could catch those amber eyes.

“Geralt,” his voice was so soft and warm, like a secret summer breeze, it had Geralt tingling, “You won’t hurt me.” 

He sounded so sure. Geralt realised that Jaskier trusted him completely. To allow himself to be this vulnerable and intimate with him, and it truly astonished the Witcher.  
Geralt nodded, moving to press his lips to Jaskier’s again.

Geralt traced his jawline with his lips, down Jaskier’s neck, along his collar bone. Jaskier shuddered underneath him as he worked his mouth on the sensitive skin of the Bard’s neck.  
He slowly moved his hand between Jaskier’s legs and brushed his slicked finger against Jaskier’s entrance. Jaskier jolted, the muscles in his groin tightening in all the right places.

Jaskier sucked in a breath as Geralt’s finger pushed into him, trying to hold back the groan bubbling in his chest.

Geralt couldn’t keep his eyes off Jaskier’s reactions to his intrusion. The Bard was quivering, trembling, completely undone.

The Witcher couldn’t believe how responsive he was to his touches, how vocal he was, even to the kisses peppered along his neck and jaw. It was driving him crazy.

After sliding the first finger in and out a few times, he added a second, giving Jaskier a moment to adjust to the new stretch before building up a quick rhythm. 

He flexed his fingers in a come-hither motion and Jaskier cried out.

“Ah, there Geralt,” he rasped.

Geralt prodded the sweet spot again and Jaskier arched off the bed in delicious pleasure. 

A third finger was added and Geralt hoped that it would be enough because his own cock was impossibly hard, and he couldn’t wait much longer.

Jaskier’s hair was plastered to his forehead and the sheen of sweat seemed to make his skin sparkle.

“You’re so beautiful Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled, “so fucking beautiful, and I’m about to make you mine.”

Jaskier shivered at his words.

Geralt positioned himself against Jaskier after slicking himself up with more of the oil.

“Can I?” he asked his Bard, his deep voice vibrating through Jaskier.

He nodded desperately and grabbed at Geralt’s arms for support.

Geralt pushed himself into Jaskier as gently as he could, holding back the urge to thrust his entire length into him at once.

Once he was fully sheathed he rocked slightly, relishing in the heat and the tightness around his cock. 

Jaskier was barely coherent, his eyes rolling back in his head, and it was all he could do to stop himself passing out from the over stimulation.

Geralt slid in and out of him slowly, supporting himself up with his hands so he could gage Jaskier’s reaction.

The Bard thrust his hips to meet Geralt’s impatiently.

“Fucking move Geralt,” he whined, “I’m not made of glass.”

Geralt picked up the pace, letting his head fall into Jaskier’s shoulder as he fucked him.

Jaskier whispered sweet nothings in his ear as they moved together, bodies fully connected.

A particularly sharp thrust had Jaskier crying out and Geralt hesitated, worried he had hurt him.

“No, no don’t stop,” the Bard pleaded, “F-felt good, Geralt, please.”

Geralt picked up his rhythm again, and the room was filled with the sound of skin on skin and ragged breathing.

Geralt captured Jaskier’s mouth with his own again as he took Jaskier’s neglected cock in his free hand.

The noise Jaskier made was lost in Geralt’s kiss as he possessed the Bard’s mouth with his own.

“Fuck,” Jaskier wailed as he came, his entire body shuddering.

Geralt stroked him through his high and it wasn’t long before his body tensed as he released inside the Bard.

He rolled off Jaskier and gathered him to his chest with strong arms.

Jaskier was trembling as he came down from his high, breath sobbing in his chest.

Geralt listened to the Bard’s pulse slow down and his breathing even out until he was pretty sure the man had fallen asleep.

The Witcher could hardly comprehend what had just happened. He kept his arms wrapped around Jaskier as he slept, his own mind too buzzing to give in to the darkness too.

He knew he would need to talk with Jaskier in the morning. About what was between them. Where to go from here. 

But that could wait. 

He was happy in this moment. Right now. And he knew that whatever the future held, at least he had his Bard by his side.


End file.
